264th Hunger Games
by Grapefruit Ninja36
Summary: Evelyn from district 12 is selected for the 264th annual Hunger Games. She has no plan but to stay independent and wait for the worst. But will that plan really work with the other tribute from her district begging for a relationship between them?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Okay, so this is my second story. My first one never really got finished because I find it hard to stay on task, but you can just draw your own conclusions. This chapter is the Reaping, and the beginning is kind of confusing because Evelyn (the main character/tribute) fainted when she was called. So I was just clarifying that. Please comment on my story and subscribe! I'm really excited and I hope I can stay on task with this one, and figure out how to get the chapters organized. THANK YOU! Also, special thanks to my sister Sarah who worked very hard to edit every chapter, and to my good friend Eli who is the first to read every chapter I release and is my main driving force to keep writing. Thanks guys!**

Everything is backward. It's all spinning around me and I can't understand what is happening. My own name is ringing in my ears but not in my voice. It is in the Escort's voice.

"Was I just called as a tribute?" I dumbly ask the girl next to me. I think her name is Eva, but I'm not sure even though I've known her my whole life. I'm not sure of anything right now.

"Yes," she whispers as tears well up in her eyes. She reaches out to help me up off the ground, but I don't take her hand. I want to stay here. I want to shrivel up and die. Maybe melt into the ground.

I hear the Escort repeat my name, gesturing for me to come up to the stage. I try to gather my wits, but before I can clear all the strange colors and sounds out of my head that don't make sense, I see fingers pointing at me. All the other girls around me are pointing at me, the one who is still laying on the ground like an idiot. They are telling the Peacekeepers where I am. Turning me in. The Peacekeepers' uniforms seemingly appear out of nowhere, and I feel like I've been slapped in the face. Forget about melting into the ground! They're coming for me! Everything clears and I get up before they can touch me. No more strange colors or sounds; I'm not unconscious anymore.

"Get off of me," I say, trying to brush them away as the grab my arms in a death lock.

I step on the stage, shivering even though I'm not cold. Our Escort smiles at me cheerily.

"So, you are Evelyn Shemblr," she says, pronouncing my name wrong.

"It's pronounced Evelyn _Shemblr,_" I say, correcting her into the mic.

"Yes, yes. Now for the boys. Just stand here, dear. I know we're all excited!" She smiles, truly happy for me. I get to be in the Hunger Games. Reaching into the Reaping Ball, she seems like she _wants _to torment us as we all wait to see which unlucky boy will be picked as our 264th Hunger Games District 12 tribute. We all hold our breaths, silently waiting in earnest. All the boys in the roped off area look very nervous, and I catch one young boy shifting back and forth from foot to foot, while another boy (probably his brother) holds his hand protectively. I can almost feel the love between them. I instantly know the older boy will do anything for his little brother, and that he is scared, but will be ready to volunteer if he needs to. I take in both of their handsome features, curly dark hair and deep brown eyes. Olive skin, and both wearing light blue blouses with khaki pants.

The escort keeps waving her hand around in the reaping ball.

Suddenly I spot another small boy on the older brother's other side. He looks about the same age as the little brother, and I catch the older brother holding his hand as well. But strangely, he looks nothing like the other two. Pale, blotchy skin and dirty blond hair that is thick with District 12 coal dust. He looks less nervous than the little brother, but not exactly brave either. I catch the older brother squeezing his hand reassuringly, and the blond one whispers something in his ear. The older brother nods and lets go of his hand as tears well up in both of their eyes.

I barely have time to wonder what he whispered when finally, our Escort picks a small piece of paper, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger. She looks at it for a minute before calling out, "Corvin Echo!"

The older brother that has olive skin steps up to the stage, giving me a look of sorrow, as if I deserve more pity than he does.

"Well, we are all very lucky to get to participate," says the escort excitedly. "Let's give a round of applause for our new tributes!" A quiet, shaky sound that might be clapping escapes from the crowd. I see Corvin on the other side of the escort and wonder what those two strange little boys will do without him.

After everyone says their goodbyes, we are led to the train to be taken to the capitol. I stare out the window blankly, waiting for the worst. Maybe the train will run right off the track and explode. Still a better death than one in the Games.

Suddenly I jump as Corvin materializes next to me. I take in his handsome features, wondering how he feels. No tears are in his eyes (unlike mine) and he doesn't seem shaken.

"So you are the legendary Evelyn," he says, twirling a finger in my jet black hair.

"Yes," I say, carefully taking his hand and putting it back down at his side. "Why am I legendary again?"

"You were called at the Reaping, weren't you? That makes for a good legend..." his voice trailed off.

"I guess so. I never was big for the Games," who was, anyway? "But the Capitol makes us watch, so... yeah. I hated watching everyone run around, killing each other. Not my kind of thing."

"It isn't so bad for me. I learn to live with it. How old are you again?"

"14."

"I'm 15. You know, if we're going to be partners-" he starts, but I cut through his sentence.

"_Partners?_ Where did that come from? Look, Corvin, I'm not trying to win, I'm trying to get out before it begins. I'm not planning on making alliances, or even getting to know people. I'd rather be executed by the president himself than be killed by another child of my age! I'm _not _entering the Games, I'm exiting them!" As soon as I say it, I regret it. I quickly scan the room, from the purple velvet chairs in the lounging area to the mahogany dining table and wall length mirror. No avoxes, no escort, no mentor. No one but me and Corvin. Still, I'm shaky. Saying that _is _the kind of thing that will get me executed on the spot.

"Evelyn, I hate to break it to you, but this isn't the kind of thing that you can just back out of. I swear, I'll do anything I can to help you, but you can't close yourself off like that. You obviously aren't ready for the Games, and I can _get _you ready. Please, listen to me! We can do this. We can make it through! You've seen it before! Remember Eila in the 260th annual Games? No one thought she would win. But she made it through, with some help of another girl. And now she's our mentor. _She _is a legend, Evelyn. You should learn something from her." He took a deep breath, and stepped closer to me. We were only a few inches apart now. He was taller than me- I only came up to about his neck.

Backing off, I said, "Really, speaking of Eila, we should go find her and get some dinner. I'm hungry and if the Games are really that important to you, we should get some tips." Like that was what I wanted. Tips were the last thing I needed! All I wanted was to have someone else with me and Corvin. This was getting awkward.

But before we could go find Eila, she found us. "Hello," she said as she walked in, her golden curls bouncing as she walked. Her face was perfect- Capitol Level perfect. She had dark blue eyes, long lashes, high cheekbones, a perfect complexion, and a dazzling smile. She wore a white suit and black high heels. I couldn't help but gawk in amazement as she approached us.

"So, I bet you two are hungry!" A wave of embarrassment flooded over me. What if she had been spying on us? But that thought disappeared as she said, "I was just talking to the head chef. It's a little early for dinner, but I said he could bring in the food. I'll go get Symma and we can talk about the Games a little."

Symma? That must be our escort's name. Sure enough, a moment later, our escort appeared wearing a suit like Eila's, but it had tufts of pink feathers jutting out at the shoulders, and it was a royal blue color. She had identical feathers just at her waist, pointing down and brushing to the floor. Her high heels were much higher than Eila's, and were more like boots with heels. A neon green, so bright it was almost white, wig sat on her head, with curls that barely reached below her earlobes. I wasn't sure if this was the outfit she had worn at the reaping. I was too dizzy to notice.

As soon as the food was brought out I eagerly sat down at the dining table, but regretted it once Corvin sat down next to me. I tried to stare at my plate, knowing that I had no intention of being his "partner" in the Games. I took a few rolls and some mashed potatoes, even though I barely knew what either of them were. Of course there were bakeries in town, and you could buy potatoes as well, but all kinds of spices and flavors had been added to them to make them taste different.

As I ate, a thousand alien flavors burst in my taste buds. Sweet, sour, spicy, juicy... the list went on and on and on and on and on! Back in District 12, we could only dream of such foods! Suddenly, a sharp twinge of pain wrenched in my gut. I missed my family already. I had no brothers or sisters, but my mother and father cared for me so much. This was the reason they chose to only have one child. To protect us from the Games. But even their cautious lines had been passed. I was on the train. It was safe to say there was no hope for them now.

I glanced up to see Corvin staring at me, while Symma and Eila chatted away about how delicious the food was and how gifted they were to know such a beautiful government could take care of us, thinking we were listening. They could not have been more wrong.

Corvin put down his fork. "So, I think I'm finished. You wanna look around the train a little?" Of course our mentor and escort chose that moment to look up at us.

"Great idea!" Chirped Symma. "We will be on the train for another day or so, so you should look around a bit! Get to know each other!" I caught a spark in Corvin's eye. He had officially outdone me. I had never wanted to punch someone in the face so bad.

"Sure," I said in a bittersweet tone. "Let's."


	2. Chapter 2

Corvin is next to me. Alone. Just us. Again.

"Where do you want to go first?" He asks, tracing the outline of my heart-shaped face with his finger. He starts at my forehead, then gently makes his way down to my chin, and continues on to play with my hair, twisting it in his fingers, getting his hand tangled up in it. Once again, I pull away from him. He lets a lock of the silky hair cascade through his fingers like sand, with a smirk on his face.

"Doesn't matter. Anywhere," I say, annoyed. I turned away abruptly; I couldn't stand him looking at me the way he was. We make our way down to the back of the train. As he follows me through the dimly lit hallways, I can't help but wonder about the mystery of it all. The train travels at 200 miles per hour, yet I'm not swaying with the motion of it, nor do I feel the slightest curve or bump. The Capitol has all this technology, and still they refuse to share it with us. It makes me angry and my whole body feels electrified.

Suddenly a door opens and I'm temporarily blinded by the light of the sun streaming in through an open door. We have made it to the back of the train and a small balcony awaits us. I get dizzy at the sight of blurry trees and grass zipping by. I can't even get details of the view because we are going so fast. I step out on the deck, feeling the sting of rushing air. It almost hurts as I'm sliced by the wind, but I like the way it feels. I whirl around, putting my back to the rail and my fists curled around it so that I'm facing Corvin.

"Well?" I snap, glaring at him. "Tell me something about you so that we can get to know each other," I say it in as sarcastic of a tone as I can muster.

"I'm Corvin. I'm from District 12 and I'm an only child. I love the color turquoise and I've always wanted to see the ocean. Now tell me about you, because we both know that is the interesting part of this little trip," he says, still giving me that mischievous smile. Once again, he's advancing on me and we are merely inches apart. Only this time I have nowhere to back off to, unless I prefer jumping off the end of the train, which doesn't seem to be an option. Besides, they probably have force fields to keep us from doing that.

I'm taken by surprise, though. If he is an only child, who were those boys who he was standing with at the Reaping?

"There's nothing to tell," I say, trying to keep a straight face.

"Well, that's not good. After all, it _was _your idea to have us get to know each other," I'm really starting to hate his constant smirk. He's playing with me. Teasing me. Messing with me. "Hmmm. You know, you really are... beautiful." He says it in a way that sounds almost sarcastic. "And you're right; we _should _get to know each other better." His voice is low, and before I can respond, I know he's about to kiss me.

I duck around him, spinning back into the hallway. He is shocked, as if he can't believe I would do such a thing. I don't want to see his face anymore.

I don't care who he is, or if he is trying to protect me during the games. Corvin Echo is not my boyfriend, and never will be.

I can't sleep.

It is as simple as that. Everything is spinning around in my head and I've almost fallen out of bed three times tonight.

I can hear the pastel white clock ticking in the corner of my small room on the train. Everything in here is a soft white, from the bed to the ceiling and back to the floor. It's fine; I have nothing against this gentle shade. The walls seem to soak up the sound of busy things, including my mind. When all I have is a thousand thoughts bouncing around in my head, messing with my emotions, all I want to do is scream. But when I'm in this room, I can think.

Even though I can't feel the train moving, I pretend I can because I want it to rock me to sleep. I roll over and look longingly out the small window of my room. Wrapping my arms around the creamy feather pillow I've been given, I feel a few tears roll down my cheeks. I've never wanted someone so desperately. I need my mother here to sing me to sleep. I can hear her heartwarming voice calmly playing out the lullaby that has wrapped me up in a peaceful sleep ever since I was little.

_Hush, little angel_

_your wings are tired_

_you can float away, far away_

_to somewhere light and sweet_

_and listen to a lullaby_

_while you lay down on a feathery bed_

_of honeysuckle songs_

_and forget all your fears_

_dry your tears_

Even though I know I can never recreate my mother's perfect rhythm and relaxed melody, somehow I'm asleep before the song is done playing through my head.

I sit up sleepily, rubbing my eyes and giving a long yawn. Propping myself up on my elbow, the first thing I see is the window. It's still dark out. I recall a strange dream about my mother singing to me, but now I wish I didn't. The twinge in my gut is back and it is tearing me apart from the inside. Before I can lay down and cry, I see him.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, his eyes locked on mine, is Corvin.

"_Oh my god!_" I scream at him, scrambling up to the corner of the wall, and clutching the pillow to my chest. _"What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?" _

The sad part is I think he's more shocked than I am.

"I couldn't sleep," he explained, "so I came here. Your door wasn't locked; I guess they forgot to lock it since you went to bed early." All I can do is gape at him in astonishment.

"Get out of here!" I shriek, and throw my pillow at him.

"I'm really sorry," he said. He sounds so sincere, truly sorry that he did it. "You have a beautiful voice. I just wanted to see someone else. I can't stand to be alone in my room... you know we get to the Capitol today, right?"

A flood of guilt washes over me. That's why he's in here. But still, he must be crazy! "Wait- what was that about my voice?"

"I heard you singing. A song about angels. It really captured me. I wish I knew lullabies like that." All I can do is continue to stare at him. He casually hops off the bed, walks over to me and runs his fingers through my hair. "Such beautiful hair," he murmurs, then turns and walks to the door. Before he leaves he turns and gives me a pained look, sighs, and leaves.

I'm left there all morning. Even when Symma calls me in for breakfast, I can only sit there in disbelief. I knew two things: first, Corvin somehow got into my room and heard my mother's lullaby. Second, we arrive at the Capitol today. One day closer to the Games.

Eventually Eila comes in to get me out of bed. I get dressed, take a shower, and dry my hair. As soon as I walk out of my room, I'm greeted by Guess-Who.

"Hi," he says, smiling. "According to Symma, we're almost to the Capitol, where we'll be greeted by our prep teams and stylists. Do you want to go talk to Eila for some advice?"

"Not really," I say flatly. I'm still in disbelief about the whole room thing. Walking past him, I head over to get some food. I'm even more confused now than I was last night when he tried to kiss me.


	3. Chapter 3

Suddenly, Symma pops up. "Come _on, _Evelyn! Your prep team wants you in _now!_"

"We're there already?" I ask in disbelief.

"Of course!" She says quickly as she rushes around the train.

"Sorry," I hear another sweet voice.

"Eila?" I ask. "Where's my prep team?"

"They're here," she says, leading me off the train. "Corvin is getting with his right now."

Before I knew it, I was surrounded by my prep team. They stripped me of my clothes and all walked around me, studying my body. I tried to stand still, but I'd never been in a position like this before. Finally, they laid me down on a table and started rubbing lotions and strange oils on me. Some of them smelled like alcohol, some smelled sweet or spicy. Some even made me want to gag. Then they began to lay down strips on my body and rip them off, taking all my body hair with it. I wanted to scream out in pain it burned so bad! They went from my legs to my arms and everywhere else.

Eventually they finished with that and had me stand before them again. I felt red and raw and wanted to be done with this. But they didn't. They put me in a soft, silky robe and had me sit down in a chair while they rubbed soap and more oils in my hair. After they washed it off and dried my hair, it was smoother and more satiny than I had ever felt it. I wanted to keep running my fingers through it, but they snapped at me to keep still while they styled it.

Once my hair was finished, it was in a simple style: all let down, except one regular braid wrapping around one side of my head.

Next they started on my face. They had me close my eyes while they put all kinds of powders and glosses on it. Once I opened them again, my eyes were shadowed a smoky red-orange color and my pupils were dark brown. My lips had been perfected into a slim line that was deep red. I looked intoxicating.

It seemed that they were finally finished. They led me to my stylist and cleared out of the room.

My stylist was a man. He had dirty blonde hair that he kept in a ponytail and blue eyes that seemed kind. He was about my height and walked in a sort of strut around me.

"So, your name is Evelyn," he confirmed. "I have a very special design for you." He held up a dazzling suit with all kinds of patterns on it. It was jet black and had a sort of stretchy fabric that fit right on me.

"This is my second year as a stylist. I'm not sure of this one... but I think you'll like it. I can't help but think that it's a little bit... tired."

"It looks great," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic as he slipped it on.

"I know, it doesn't look like much now," he said with an edge to his voice.

"No, no! It's fantastic!" I replied enthusiastically.

"But you haven't seen it yet," he said, giving a sly smile. I cocked my head, confused.

"It's almost time for the chariot rides, so we can turn it on now," he said, and called in an assistant to help him. Once it was on, the patterns lit up and I saw it for what it really was. A gorgeous fire pattern that blended colors of red, yellow, and orange together wound around the whole suit. It glowed like the sun and I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I now understood what he meant by "you haven't seen it yet." Next, he handed me a crown to put around my head. It was a circlet made of the same electronic band that made the fire pattern on the suit. It too had a flame pattern surrounding it.

Once it was all on, I looked amazing. My reflection in the mirror wasn't me; it was a riveting, confidant young woman who was ready for this. But the girl inside of me didn't feel like that. I felt small and scared and I didn't want to be out there to amuse the Capitol. I tore my eyes away from the mirror just in time for my stylist to usher me out to the chariot. Just before I got on with Corvin, who was dressed in an outfit similar to mine, my stylist kissed me on the forehead and whispered, "My name is Regan."

I took a deep breath, looked at Corvin, and made myself a promise: if I was going to do this, I wasn't going to do it as myself. I was going to do it as the girl in the mirror.


	4. Chapter 4

I was so close to Corvin that our shoulders touched.

I tried to stare straight forward but the truth was, I was scared. The District 11 tributes were in their chariot in front of us, facing forward. I felt Corvin wrap his hand in mine and I didn't pull away. I couldn't cry. Not now. Not here.

Our chariot started to pull forward, and I almost fell off. It wasn't as if it was going fast, the problem was that I was terrified. I tried to smile and wave while the crowd roared at us. People threw roses, other flowers, hats. Everything. Finally we pulled up to the stage that President Rose stood on. His pearly white hair was pulled back into a ponytail and I remembered something my mother had told me about a previous president, President Snow, who had looked just like President Rose. But President Snow passed away over a century ago.

"Welcome, welcome," the president's deep voice boomed in the stadium. "I know we are all excited for the Hunger Games. This is the first day. In two short weeks, our wonderful tributes will be released into the arena and the Games will begin." The word 'begin' brought on a thundering bellow from the crowd. They obviously could not wait for us to be shoved into our deaths.

"Yes, yes!" The president cried. "This is our first look at the tributes for the 264th Hunger Games!" He put emphasis on the last three words, and I felt Corvin squeeze my hand. This time I pulled away. Our chariot rumbled back to the Capitol Building, where Regan and my Prep team met us. I also saw Corvin's stylist, a slender woman with her sky blue hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail, with a few loose strands dyed green and curled into ringlets. Capitol fashion.

Corvin jumped off the chariot and let his stylist lead him back inside the building. Both prep teams followed obediently, leaving Regan and I alone.

"Did you like it?" Regan asked, fiddling with my outfit to turn it off.

When he finally had it back to its normal black self, I answered, "I guess. The crowd really seemed to like us." In truth, the only time I'd payed attention to the crowd was when they were nearly bursting my eardrums. The rest of the time I'd been focusing on Corvin.

"I thought you looked stunning," he said, giving a comforting smile.

I blushed. "You really think so? I'm not sure that I'm ready for the Games."

"I know you are. You took my breath away. Your physical abilities are only a small fraction of what matters in the Games. What is really important is being the crowd favorite. Getting sponsors."

I stared back out at the crowd, which was now slowly filing out of the stadium. How could they love this so much? The games were a mystery to me.

"Well," sighed Regan, "You should probably get back in the building now." He led me through a hallway with many doors in it until finally, we met up with Symma and Eila. Symma was once again wearing another ridiculous outfit, while Eila was at least being rational with another simple white suit and heels. As they led me to my room they chatted about how wonderful I looked and how Corvin and I would make it so far, and the odds were most definitely in my favor. Finally we reached the destination and Symma and Regan left.

"I really do think you looked amazing," said Eila softly, sitting down on the bed with me. "Tomorrow is training, so I'll tell you this: just try new things. Save your current abilities for the Game Makers. But for now, I want you to focus on weapons and plants. The arenas are always hiding things, so you'll need to know about all the edible and inedible things because food is a priority. For now you should rest up." She got up off the bed and walked to the door. Before she left, she said, "Good night, Evelyn." I listened to her heels click on the tile floor of the hallway as she left.

Only a moment later the door slid open. "Hey," said Corvin as he closed it again.

"Hi," I said ungratefully as he laid down next to me. "You know I expected you."

"You probably did. That chariot ride was awful," he turned to me. "But then again, what can you expect? We've been doing this for over two hundred and sixty years..." I closed my eyes, thinking about what would happen tomorrow.

"You must be terrified of training," he predicted. "I saw your face on the ride. You were trying to hide it, but I knew you were scared," I felt him running his fingers through my hair, slowly undoing the braid that my prep team had so carefully wound together.

Keeping my eyes closed, I said, "When do you plan on leaving? Because I know Symma won't like it when she finds you out of bed."

I waited for what seemed like an eternity when finally he said, "Now, probably." Kissing my cheek, he got up and left. I refused to open my eyes until I heard the door click shut. Eventually, I fell into a nightmare infested sleep.

I was running. And the President was chasing me. Corvin was by my side. We were running through an endless field. I turned to look at the president, who was slowly gaining. In one swift movement, he pulled out a gun. I turned back around, willing my legs to move faster. Adrenaline pumped through me as I waited for the worst.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my back. I felt the bullet hit me and a jolt of electricity shook my body. Collapsing to the ground, Corvin continued to run- until he noticed I was no longer by his side. Turning around and sprinting back towards me, all I could think about was how I was going to die. The president was charging me; it was a race. Who would get to me first? Immediately, Corvin sank down to my side and shielded me from the president, saving my life. But when I felt the weight of his limp body drop on top of me, I knew he was dead.

"Corvin," I croaked. I could barely move, but I would do anything I could to save him. The president peeled him off of me, flinging his body away as he reached out to get me...

I sat up, a line of sweat on my forehead. Wiping it away, I closed my eyes, then opened them again. Every time I closed them, I saw the president. I checked my alarm clock. Three o'five. Way too early to wake up. I had to get more sleep.

I tried so hard to go to sleep, but I was too shaken. After a long hour of thinking and sitting, unable to move, I heard the doorknob click. A thin line of yellow light illuminated the floor of my room. For a fleeting moment, I thought it might be President Rose, coming to get me. Then, with a flood of relief, I realized it was just another visit from Corvin. I happily let him lay down next to me.

That was when I realized how easy-going Corvin was. He didn't ask about the sudden change in mood, or push about anything. I just let him lay next to me. Eventually he even let me lay my head down on his chest. The steady beat of his heart gave me more peace of mind than I had thought possible. Just knowing he was alive made me happy. For once, it felt good not to push him away.

But before I drifted back to sleep, I made myself a promise: I would never let him get this close to me again. I couldn't afford the price. Loosing him suddenly seemed much worse than I had ever interpreted it.


	5. Chapter 5

When I wake up, Corvin is gone.

I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. I'm leaning towards good because I remember my promise from last night.

Scanning the perfect white room that I'm laying in, I throw off the covers of my bed and drag myself into the bathroom. I slowly inspect my matted, knotted hair in the mirror and tired face. I slowly tug the hairbrush through my hair, untangling all the knots until it is smooth once again. My hair is wavy in the front where the braid used to be.

I then brush my teeth and wash my face, taking off the smeared makeup from last night with it. After I'm dressed into a simple T-shirt and black sweats that were laid out for me, I head out in search of breakfast. Before I can even step into the hall I'm confronted by Symma.

Today she's wearing a sort of ballgown that looks like something out of a storybook. The bottom of the gown poofs out so wide it brushes the sides of the walls in the hallway. At least a hundred rainbow-colored lacy ribbons spread out around the lavender skirt. The top is a gentle shade of light green with a v-neck that has bows on it as well. Though her dress looks like some kind of rainbow fairytale, her arms are decorated with bracelets that have tiny spikes on them, and on her neck she wears a choker necklace of the same style. Her hair matches, a violent red color and styled to stick out in every which way. I also catch a few metal beads gelled into her hair as well. In the back of her dress is the traditional bright pink feathers sticking down to trail on the floor, and a cape to match.

As I try to wrap my head around her completely irrational costume, she's rushing me to the dining room for breakfast. I can't help but snicker as I realize I'm going to have to walk in front of her because her gown is so big.

When we get to the dining room, we are greeted by a huge oak table that is packaged in tightly with all kinds of food. Eila and Corvin are waiting for us. I sit down across from Corvin and casually select a few foods to eat when I catch Symma struggling to fit into a chair with her ridiculous dress. When she finally gets herself figured out, she starts babbling on about how our schedule is very tight today and we have to hurry to the training center.

"Eila," I say, turning towards her, "Any tips?"

"Remember what I told you last night," she says. "Try to learn new things. And plants are a priority. The Game Makers want a good show, which usually includes starving the tributes. So getting the idea of what is edible and inedible is incredibly important." As she says this, I finish my hot cocoa and biscuit and reach for some toast.

"Anything else?" I ask.

"Not really," says Eila. "Just stay focused and don't get in fights with the other tributes."

Once breakfast is over we are whisked away to the training arena. Stations are dotted around the huge warehouse with every kind of defense mechanism- from knives to spears, and from plant life to archery. I have no idea where to start, so I think about what our mentor said and head over to the plant station.

The teacher working there is nice enough, and teaches me and another tribute- I think she was from 10- about different types of berries. I take note of which ones to stay away from, particularly a deep blue berry that grows on a red bush, and which ones could save my life, especially a small purple berry that I can find growing in fields- if I mix it with some other plants I can create a medicine for burns. Unfortunately I'm still not entirely sure about what I'm doing.

After I'm done learning about that, I head over to archery. The teacher is a tall man with spiky black hair who struts back and forth as he talks about how to hold the bow. I pick it up and feel its weight, and double-check to make sure I'm holding it right. I select an arrow and carefully set it on the bow, and pull back the string.

As soon as I let go the arrow drops before me. I'm not nearly strong enough to pull back on the drawstring. Gently setting the arrow back in the quiver, I head off to learn how to use a spear.

Once again, I'm not strong enough to throw it. I'm really good at aiming, though, and with some serious effort, am able to hit a few targets. Finally, I go to find some daggers. It turns out that though I can't use a bow and arrow, and I'm okay with a spear, I am amazing at throwing knives. I hit every target bulls-eye and even more than half of the moving targets. But will I be able to hunt like this in the arena?

I decide I've had enough of the dagger station so I go to the workout area to get stronger. As soon as I start doing chin-ups I realize how exhausted I am, so I choose to take a break and take some time climbing trees. I can scramble up them like a squirrel and the teacher is amazed how fast I am.

At the end of training, I've learned my strengths: I'm fantastic with a dagger, exceptional with a spear, and trees are definitely my thing. As for other defense mechanisms, I know the basics for making medicines of plants, have memorized at least ten edible and inedible plants, and how to make a fish hook. I feel accomplished- who knows how I could use these skills in the Games? Besides, at least I know I'm better off now that I was before.

As I exit the training arena, I meet up with Corvin.

"So," he says, "I met a few other tributes. Watch out for the tributes from 1-4. Trust the girl from 8. She is great with plant life. Both from 11 would make good partners, as would the boy tribute from 6."

I gasp. "I barely met anyone! All I know is that the girl from 10 is twelve years old and is scared out of her wits. I was with her during the plant station. But she really knows a lot of medicines." I look at Corvin. "So you really know what you're doing."

"I guess," he answers honestly. "I'm pretty strong, but I couldn't climb a tree in a million years and medicines just don't make sense to me. I can hunt, but as for food, medicine, shelter..." his voice trailed off.

We walked back to the Capitol building to eat and go to bed. Dinner was the same as usual- Corvin and I talked about the strengths and weaknesses we learned we had and our plans for tomorrow when we would present ourselves to the Gamemakers. I trudged back to my room, put on some night clothes, and collapsed on the bed.

Tonight I had no visits from Corvin, and I was perfectly fine with that. I didn't want anything to do with him. The only thing he was good for right now was learning about the other tributes. I thought about tomorrow. What _would _I do for the Gamemakers? I thought of throwing knives and climbing trees. Running was also in my favor. I eventually got to sleep on my mother's lullaby.

Tonight I dreamt about the Gamemakers. I dreamt that they were forcing me to do all the things I was awful at. Every bow and arrow I drew turned into a huge snake and the Gamemakers forced me to run for hours with the snakes chasing me. I woke with a start. Same as last time, my alarm clock reads 3 o'clock. But no Corvin. I start to wish he was here, but dismiss those feelings immediately. I can't afford to fall in love now... I tell myself this will be the last time I will feel this way.

I'm not sure I'm being honest with myself, though.


	6. Chapter 6

I head down to breakfast and I am met with Symma and Eila, but no Corvin.

Avoxes carry food in on trays until the table is filled to the usual amount of food. I start in hungrily as Eila talks about how important it is to "give the Game makers a reason to remember me." When I'm finally finished eating some sort of pastry treat that tastes like cinnamon, Corvin walks in and sits down.

"For once I'm earlier than you," I mutter.

"Well, it _is _four in the morning," he contradicts me, and I lay my fork down on the table, reach for the orange juice, and pour some in a glass without responding.

"We have to be in the training arena by one o'clock noon," Symma clarifies, "because we are going last. Until then, you can do whatever you want as long as it doesn't include getting into trouble." She casts a steely glance my way. I'm not sure what I did but that look never does end up making its way to Corvin.

I decide once I'm done with breakfast that I'll go back to my room and take a shower. I carefully navigate the dimly lit tile hallways until I find my room. I walk in, go to the bathroom and take off my clothes.

Back in District 12 we don't have showers, but I had heard of them before. Even though I have a mild understanding of how they work and how to operate them, this one is much more difficult than I had imagined. All kinds of dials and buttons line up on one side of the shower. I'm able to get some warm water running. Even though I'd like to make it hotter it just feels too wrong to use all that luxury when I know that there are still freezing, starving children at home.

Finally I end up finding out how to get some soap and it comes out in a rosy smelling spray. I rub it in and for another twenty minutes or so I just stand in the warm water and adjust the spray so it comes out like a massage. This is the first time I realize how tense my muscles are so I let them relax; it feels _really _good to just forget about everything and let go.

When I'm done with the shower I dry off in some towels that just _have _to be made out of clouds. I dress into the usual brown sweats and T-shirt. Feeling much more refreshed, I plop down on my bed and let a huge sigh escape my mouth.

I decide to explore my room a little and end up finding some interesting things. First of all there is a little tablet in the corner embedded into a table. I soon find that if you push a little blue button at the top then say someone's name it will call them and they can talk to you from wherever they are. I test it out by saying "Corvin" and in a moment I hear his voice ringing through my little room. While him and I are talking about other discoveries that we've made, I push a little green button and Corvin's image is suddenly standing on the little table, just smaller. Giving a shriek, I retreat to the bed, stunned. I've never seen anything like it!

"Corvin you- you're in my _room_!" I stutter.

"No I'm not," he insists. "I've seen that too. I'm using it right now! It is showing what you're doing to me right now. No offense," I can hear the shyness in his voice, "You kind of look hilarious."

"I will _get _you for that," I say, and turn off the tablet. By eleven o'clock, Corvin has showed up at my room holding a picnic basket and suggesting we have lunch on the roof, which has become a famous spot for tribute lunches over the years.

"Sorry, Corvin..." I say, remembering I was never supposed to get close to him. Even using the tablet with him pushed the boundaries of my promise.

"I already told the avoxes we didn't need lunch," he said with his infamous smile. Half of my mind was secretly happy; the other half wanted to punch him in the face.

"I guess," I say, trying to sound not at all excited. We walked to the roof, and luckily we were the only ones there. Corvin laid down a soft blanket that seemed to be made out of the same material as the towels in my bathroom, and I swear I almost fell asleep on it before he even got lunch out of the basket.

It turns out his "basket" wasn't a "basket" at all. It was kind of like a direct menu from the Avoxes. He just typed in what he wanted, and it would materialize inside the box. We had fun ordering ridiculous things like some kind of sauce called "reney" but in a huge bowl. Once we got it we realized how awful it tasted so we decided to sit out on that one.

"They say there's a force field here to keep tributes from jumping off the building," Corvin explains.

"Yeah," I say. "Wanna test it?"

He laughs out loud. "Yeah, if you want to be fried." He turned to me, suddenly serious. "Do you know how many tributes have eaten up here? Do you know how many of those tributes walked to their death the very next day?" I thought about it. Two hundred and sixty-four years. But surely this rooftop hadn't been discovered until at least twenty or so years into the Games.

District 12 has eighteen victors as of this very year. Eighteen in two hundred sixty-four years. That's not many. We didn't even have a victor, I hear, until the fiftieth anniversary of the Games. But I'm not sure if that's true.

Corvin and I kept talking. sometimes about serious things, other times laughing and joking. He wouldn't be my top choice of people to stay with in my last few days, but I didn't have much of a choice. It was either him or Symma/Eila. The lesser of two evils.

Eventually I got up enough courage to ask the dreaded question. "Who _were _those boys you were with at the Reaping?" I asked without looking at him. We were laying on our backs looking at the clouds.

He stared at me a minute before answering, "You saw us? Well, one of them was my... brother. The other was a friend of mine."

"No," I said stubbornly. "On the train you said you were an only child."

"Don't you think I was a little busy," he said, twirling another finger in my hair, "being in love with you?"

I didn't answer. I knew he was lying.

"Why does it matter?" He asked. "Maybe someday I'll tell you. Not now. Not when we're about to go to the Gamemakers." He pulled his hand back and continued to stare at the sky.

"What do the Gamemakers have to do with it?" I questioned.

"Nothing," he said quickly. Changing the topic, he said, "Isn't it strange that they haven't gotten rid of the clouds yet? In a city so perfect, don't you think they'd be tired of rain and shadows by now?" As if on cue, one of the smaller clouds flickered. A projection.

Again, I didn't answer him, but I didn't think there was really a need to answer anyway. For the rest of the time we stayed there, I didn't see any clouds flicker. I wondered where the projector was.

By noon, we were heading back down into the building to get ready to go meet the Gamemakers. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, told myself I was ready, and followed Symma to the training arena. This would be the last time I saw the arena. This would be the first time I met the Gamemakers.


	7. Chapter 7

I waited in earnest for someone to call my name.

Corvin sat next to me. I stared at a flower vase across the room, trying to focus on the complex patterns painted on its surface. But I knew the flowers were fake. The way that they were so perfect, their aroma so strong- they couldn't possibly be real flowers. As I tried to sort out the projection in my mind, Corvin kept his eyes locked on mine, trying to discover what I was thinking.

Finally, a female voice announced on a loudspeaker, "Evelyn Shemblr, please enter the training arena for your evaluation." I stood up on shaky legs and walked into the arena.

The Gamemakers were waiting for me on a stage off to the side of the training arena that was illuminated with a faint pink light. The rest of the warehouse that the arena was located in was dark and filled with all kinds of stations waiting for me. Most of the Gamemakers sat and talked, others ate food that was brought in on trays by the avoxes. I nervously walked over to the knife throwing station.

I selected a few daggers and clutched them in my hands. Taking aim on some moving targets, I carefully narrowed my eyes, drew my arm back, and hurled the first knife dead in the center of a human dummy's heart. I strutted over to another side of the station, now more confident. This time I threw two knives at once, nailing two different targets bull's-eye at the same time. I glanced over at the Gamemakers. Luckily, a few were watching me with steely glances.

Now that I was done throwing knives, I decided to push my luck with a bow and arrow. Definitely a stupid idea, but I walked over to them. Picking up one that seemed my size, I felt it, then got an idea and put it back down. I ran- no, sprinted- over to the fish hook-making section and picked up a few good-sized pieces of bark and began to fashion them into a bow. When I got a pretty good one made, I got a few arrows and used that. It turned out great- this one wasn't as hard to pull back on and I hit every target I tried. It wasn't as if I was an expert, but I think I did fairly well.

After that, I look at a huge clock on the wall above the Gamemakers and see it reads: 5:00. Five minutes left. I choose to spend my time climbing trees, sprinting on mats with obstacles on them, and continuing to throw knives. I think I do pretty well, and when I am dismissed I walk out with my chin higher than before. Before I even get out the other end of the training arena, I see Corvin walking in where I did.

I close the massive door behind me as I exit and stare at a vase identical to the one in the previous waiting room, wishing I had never been here in the first place.

_You'll be lucky to pull an eight, _I think. I wonder what Corvin is doing in there right now. I've heard rumors of people pulling stunts on the Gamemakers during their private sessions, but that seems too outgoing to wrap my mind around. I'm suddenly hit with a shiver as I realize I'm being watched.

"Hello," says a tall, dark man in a red uniform as he walks toward me.

"Y-yes, sir," I stutter to the Gamemaker. He says nothing else, just walks past me back into the training arena. What was he doing out here? They're supposed to stay on the stage the whole time. That's required. So why was he here? I try to shake the thought as Corvin walks back in a minute or so later.

"How'd you do?" I ask quietly.

"I could ask you the same," he says with a sparkle in his eye. Sitting next to me, he stares at the vase that I'm still connected to. "You really seem to like that vase," he comments.

I can't help but laugh in spite of myself. "Yeah, I guess I do. What did you show them?"

"I mainly used my strength. I threw a few spears, but I didn't hit the center of the targets. I pushed my luck and tried to climb a tree and hide in it, but that probably ruined my whole score." He looks down at his lap, then back to me. "What did you show them?"

I shrug. "A little bit of everything," I answer. "I did same as you- pushed my luck and tried a bow and arrow. I built one myself."

Corvin's eyes grow wide. "That's something to be proud of. You must have great abilities!" Suddenly he's serious again. "I can't do things like that. My only strengths are that I'm not afraid to kill and I'm strong. I can hunt, I guess. At least I could, if I was faster, and more accurate." He leans towards me. "But I'm sure _you'll _do fine," he says, coiling my hair around his hand, as usual.

We are left alone a few more minutes before Symma appears and leads us back to the Capitol Building. We get there around four o'clock and make it just in time to see the scores.

They start with District 1. The boy got a ten. As did the girl. District 2 got a five for the girl and a nine for the boy. Pretty much scores ranging in the seven through nines for Districts 1-4. Five turns out okay with a score of six and seven. When we reach six, the boy tribute manages to get an eight. I was surprised with the girl from seven- she got a ten, one of the best so far. I felt bad for the boy from eight- he got a four but the girl got a seven. The rest of the districts are pretty low, including eleven, but I remember Corvin's advice: trust the girl from 8, the boy from 6, both from 11, and watch out for 1-4 and I make my own tab to watch out for that lucky girl from seven.

Finally the scores turn to 12. I watch, and the seconds seem like hours until my name flashes on. _This is it,_ I think. _Here it is. Remember that you worked for this..._ before I can remind myself that it's okay if I only get a seven, I see it- ten. One of the highest up there! All I can do is stare at the television in amazement as my mentor, escort, and fellow tribute cheer for me. Ten. That number will be stuck in my head all night.

Then I see Corvin's name, and before I can wonder what number he will get, I see his rating. I collapse on the couch. _Twelve._ I turn around to congratulate him, but he's gone.

We eat dinner and celebrate and afterward I have time to fit in a shower before bed. As I stand in the warm spray of water, all I can think about is how disappointed the Gamemakers must have been this year in the scores- usually they can at least get an eleven.

Suddenly I'm dizzy. _Ten!_ I thought I would barely get an eight! I don't know what it was that they liked- probably that I had a perfect arrow right in front of me and chose to make my own. How did Corvin get a 12 though? I turn off the shower after using the usual rosy soap and conditioner, and dry myself off in a Cloud Towel.

I lay down on bed and wait. I'm wondering if Corvin will come in tonight. I tell myself I don't want him to, but I know it's a lie. I need to know how he got that twelve. Finally I fall asleep and have dreams about Gamemakers and bows and arrows.


	8. Chapter 8

When I wake up, my door is locked.

I can't get out. Why would they want to trap me in here? Suddenly, the thought hits me full-force. They might have finally found out about Corvin's visits. I try to stay calm and check my alarm clock. 6:27. Pretty late for me to wake up based on previous days, but I didn't have any nightmares last night.

A moment later, my door clicks and I know the lock has been undone. Six thirty. That's when I can get out of bed. After I'm dressed, I go outside to have the usual breakfast. As I sit down across from Corvin, I know he's made the same discovery as I have. I cock my head, squint my eyes and point to him, but he just gives a silent laugh and shakes his head no. Apparently they didn't know about his visits.

I wonder about the previous avoxes that were supposed to keep our doors locked. They were probably executed by now. I tried to finish my breakfast in peace, but it was difficult.

After I'm finished, my prep team comes to retrieve me. After all, it is Interview Day. When my prep team is done waxing me, styling my hair into the classic side-braid, and doing my makeup, which is black, dusty eyeshadow and pure white lipstick, I go to see Regan.

"You look beautiful," he said.

"I'm not dressed yet," I say in a tired tone.

"That's right," he says with a wink. Suddenly he pulls out a beautiful black ball gown like the one Symma was wearing earlier, minus the awful colors, ribbons, and oversized skirt. The dress looks like something a princess would wear, with its silky fabric and pearl beads embedded in the skirt. The top is sleeveless. A simple style, and with a diamond clip to insert into my braid to match.

"Coal," Regan explains as I slip it on. It fits perfectly and I twirl around a few times in it. When is shakes, it shimmers silver. I gasp at my reflection, hugging myself.

"Coal," he repeats, "waiting to become a diamond." The thought is genius. That's what the little pearls are. When compressed, coal can become diamonds. Truly beautiful. Giving one last spin, I turn to look at Regan, who is staring thoughtfully at me.

"What is Corvin wearing?" I ask.

"You'll find out soon enough," he teases, whisking me away to the hallway under the interview stage. The District 11 boy tribute appears next to us, and gives me the signal that it's time to go up. But before I can pick up my skirt and get up the stairs, I realize two things: one, I'm barefoot, and two, Corvin just tapped my shoulder.

Turning around, I'm met with a dazzling sight. Corvin is wearing a sort of tuxedo that is pitch black like mine, but when the light hits him he absolutely illuminates.

I'm in awe and I can barely move before he whispers in my ear, "I can't wait to come back here," and leans forward and gently kisses my cheek. I have no idea what his words mean but before I can think about it I'm walking up the stairs leading to the stage and I'm hit with a huge roar of the crowd.

I try to give a girly smile and curtsy as I sit down next to Serroe Caste, the interviewer. He always dresses in the same outfit: a simple tuxedo, but every year he adds a twist to it. Usually the twist has something to do with the arena for that year, but his hints are almost impossible to decipher. This year his hair is slicked back so much that it looks wet, and his tuxedo is such a dark blue that it looks almost black.

"So, I hear your name is..." he begins.

"Evelyn," I say with a shy smile.

"Well, Evelyn," he says, "we are all very excited to have you here. To start off, I'd like to ask about your dress. You do look stunning!"

I blush. "My designer, Regan, told me that it represents the coal of District 12." I pause, waiting for him to ask about the beads.

As if reading my mind, he says politely, "And may I ask what the beads represent?" He gestures to the audience. "Wouldn't we _all _like to know?" This brings up a shriek from the crowd. They go wild, they must love my dress so much.

"Well, Serroe," I say confidetly. I'm really getting better at this! "The beads represent diamonds, waiting to be made." He gives me a stunned look, then smiles back at the audience.

"Well there you have it!" He cries. "Pure genius! And if I may say so myself, I believe that this outfit truly does reflect on your personality. You really are a diamond waiting to be made," he compliments me.

I can feel myself turning red as a cherry. Serroe laughs and says, "May the odds be _ever _in your favor!" I don't think it's right for the interviewers to choose favorites, but I really think he likes me. Standing up, I give a twirl and a curtsy and as I do it I can hear the Capitolites ooh-ing and ahh-ing in the audience. I strut off the stage, and by the time I'm back under it I can hear Corvin being welcomed warmly to the Capitol by Serroe.

I sprint over to Regan and collapse in his arms, sobbing. Because I know what Corvin meant, now. As soon as Serroe brought up how the dress reflected on my personality, it clicked. Corvin said he couldn't wait for _us _to be back here. Victors always come back for a second interview.

One thing is for sure: the odds will _never _be in my favor, and if anyone from District 12 is coming back it will be Corvin. Regan holds me, cradling me in his arms and patting my back as I shake uncontrollably. When I finally dry my tears, I'm more embarrassed than ever. Luckily the other tributes cleared out as soon as I stepped on the stage and no one saw us.

As I'm turning around to thank Regan, I see it. A flash of red, leaving the room. I know who it is and I'm not sure what it means. Everything is so confusing right now!

"Thanks," I whisper to Regan, still hiccuping. A moment later, Corvin is jogging back down the stairs. I try to straighten up my attitude.

"What angle did you play?" I ask, trying to make conversation.

"Dunno. It probably looked like fearless, but not a 'conqueror' sort of thing," he explains. I know what he means. He didn't want to look afraid of the Games, but not like a Career either.

We stood there for a moment before Corvin announced, "Water." I gave him a strange look.

"I don't think so," I said. I knew he was referring to the arena, and Serroe's costume.

"The ocean!" he said excitedly. "Didn't you see how... _wet... _he was?"

"No," I said stubbornly. "If they wanted to drown us, it wouldn't be that obvious. I think his costume would probably an _airy _theme, for 'last dying breath.' Besides, he never makes it that obvious. There's always a twist in which it finally clicks together. Usually at the beginning of the games the arena totally goes the _opposite _way you would have guessed. But eventually the pieces start falling together." I shivered. I was done talking about arenas and Serroe's costume.

Finally we were back in the Capitol Building, and I did nothing but sleep even though it was only 2:30 when we got back. I was sick of being bored so I just laid down on my bed and slept. This time no dreams came, nightmares _or _good dreams. And for once I didn't want to cry constantly and have to hide it.

When I woke up the only thing I could think of doing was to take a shower to pass the time, but I decided not to because I do that every day. I chose to go see Corvin's room. I wondered what the thing he brought from home was.

I had no idea where his room was but that was okay. I just waited for him to come to me, and that didn't take long.

"Hi," I said cheerily once he showed up.

"Why so happy?" He said, and stood next to my bed, facing away, then suddenly let himself fall onto it.

Still sitting up next to him, I said, "I was thinking that I want to see your room today. I want to know what you brought from home."

At first he looked confused, then molded his face into a smile and said, "Sure." He picked himself up and offered me his hand, but I didn't take it. Getting up, I walked next to him as we traveled the endless halls to his room.

Finally we reached it and I wondered aloud, "Why do they put the tribute's rooms so far apart? We are from the same district." He smiled.

"For all you know, we _could _live next to each other. Did you ever think about that maybe I don't want you to be able to _find _my room?"

I playfully punched his arm, saying, "I really hate you right now." Taking out a tiny silver key, he pointed it to the room and stood very still. After a few seconds we heard a high-pitched noise that electricity makes. I recall hearing it in my kitchen whenever someone turned on the TV back home. It hurt my ears because I didn't usually hear it, but here at the Capitol they must be used to it.

Corvin inserted his key and the high-pitched noise stopped.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Full body scan," he said. "I don't think your room has it." His eyes gave the implication of a secret joke, and I halfway understood. If I really had the security his room did, he never would have been able to get in.

I step inside and there's no surprise. His room looks just like mine except for one thing: a tiny little square that is on a table by his bed. I pick it up and look at it. Up close, it's deep blue and has a hundred little gold lines of wire running on it. I can also feel raised bumps on its surface. I hold it up and give him a look.

"That's what I brought from home," he explains innocently. I set it back down.

"I don't understand what it is or why of all things, _that _is what you'd want to bring." Corvin sits down on his bed and I sit down next to him.

"It's called a Micro," he says. "Very complicated stuff. If I weren't _me, _if I was someone else, it would probably be of no use to me. I'm the only person that wants it," He sighed, and I didn't bother to ask what that meant.

Leaning towards my ear, he whispered, "You know I still love you," and kissed my shoulder. I flopped down onto the bed so that my legs were still hanging off the edge and thought about the arena. What would it be? I had no idea.

We talked for the rest of the day, laying on the bed together. One time he told me my hair smelled like cinnamon and we were both cracking up for no apparent reason. Most of the time the conversation got dangerously close to the subject of the arena, but I always found a way to avoid it.

Hours passed like seconds and before I knew it, Corvin was leading me through that endless labyrinth again. Finally, I dug out my key to my room and put it in the lock, like some _normal _tribute from District 12 would do. Giving a last laugh, he waved goodbye and left me alone to sleep.

Tonight I dreamt about water and arenas and one horrifying word: tomorrow.


	9. Chapter 9

I was crying in my sleep.

I know because when I gently press my hand to my cheek, I can feel the teardrops rolling. Wiping them away, I peel the covers off my body and cautiously let my feet swing to the floor. For the first time, I notice how soft the carpeting is. Falling down on it, I roll onto my stomach and cry. Today, I am going into the arena.

There's a soft knock at the door. Suddenly I jerk myself off the ground, dry my tears with the covers of my bed, and go to open the door. Before I put my hand on the doorknob, I check the clock. 6:45. I wrap my fingers around the cool silver handle and open it.

"Regan," I whisper as he embraces me.

"Hello, Evelyn," he says softly. There is no one that could bring me greater comfort. I let him hold me, and feeling his warmth is all I need.

"You can come in," I offer. But I know he doesn't want to. I'm trying to save time before I'm thrown to my death.

"No," he answers. "We have to get you ready." He gives my hand a sympathetic squeeze, and I follow him to the Styling Room, as I call it, after eating breakfast.

The prep team meets me and we go through the motions. When I'm all ready, Regan gets me dressed in a simple full body suit that has stretchy fabric and is blue and black. He puts my hair in a ponytail with the usual braid, and asks me if I would like to keep one thing in the arena. I ask him to give me one of the pearls from the interview dress, so he leaves and comes back a moment later with a tiny pearl.

"How will I keep it?" I ask.

"Here," he says, and begins to mess with my ponytail, securing it in the spot where the braid goes into the hairband. "You can take it out whenever you want, but there's no pockets in your suit so you'll always have to put it back here." I toss my black hair back and forth, making sure it's secure. I take it out and put it back in, making sure I can do it. Finally, Regan leads me to the area where we will be lifted into the arena and we are met by Symma, Eila, and Corvin, who is wearing an outfit identical to mine.

"You both have plans, right?" asks Eila one more time. We went over this at breakfast, but now she seems much more concerned. I nod. My plan is to stick to myself and trust no one. Especially Corvin.

Corvin nods as well, and whispers in my ear, "One through Four, seven, watch out. Trust Eight, Eleven, and Six." I nod.

"Corvin?" I whisper back. I know that the adults aren't paying attention to us. They're chatting in the corner of the room.

"Yes?" he asks, playing with my hair.

"Will I ever see you again?" I'm suddenly terrified. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this.

"I promise," He answers, giving my neck a kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

I step onto the silver disk that will lift me up to the arena. Before the glass cylinder closes around me, Regan kisses my forehead and Corvin has to leave to go to his room. Symma and Eila give me a sad look, as if they know they'll never see me again.

A person in a white coat steps in and says, "Give me your arm." I extend my arm and a piercing pain courses through me as they insert a needle. "This is your tracker." He says with an emotionless tone.

The cylinder closes around me and I'm being lifted into the arena. As I rise, I'm frozen in place.

Finally I can see the floor of the arena. The other tributes are circled around me, all in ready positions. In between us all is the Cornucopia. I've only seen this on TV before. Never lived it. Never dreamed of living it.

The floor is stone and everything is dark, except for a few candles lighting the room. The walls are circular and stone as well. Why are we in a room? Aren't the Games supposed to be outdoors?

"Ten, nine, eight..." I hear the automatic voice counting down. I look for Corvin but I can't find him in this dim light. "Five, four three..." A thousand thoughts flashing through my head. "Two, one..." A cannon fires from somewhere and everything is a blur. Children sprint off their pedestals and everyone is attacking the Cornucopia.

I jump off mine and head over to get some daggers. I spot some lying a bit far from the horn and I snatch them and a belt that I can keep in them before anyone can get to me. I run for the dark outline of a door to get out of the room.

When I get out, there's one long, dark hallway that I know could be my death trap. Once the other tributes run in here, they can throw spears and knives like there's no tomorrow. So I feel along the wall for a side tunnel or vent that I can crawl through. Finally I find a chink in the stone and pull it aside. I wrench away at the stuff until there's a small hole that I crawl through.

Luckily the hole wasn't solid wall and I take a passage into a room like the one I was just in, but huge stained glass windows showing pictures of animals and castles line one circular wall. Unfortunately no daylight comes in so there are more candles hung on the walls. I reach over to touch one and find that they are surrounded by a gentle force field that shocks me when I touch it. These will not be used as weapons even if you want them to.

I walk tentatively around the room on my hands and knees until I almost fall into a pit. Reaching my hands down, I feel for a bottom but don't find one. A deep rumble emanates from it and I decide to move on. I keep my daggers ready in my hand and continue to carefully navigate the strange labyrinth that we have been put in.

I find more cracks in the stone that all lead to different passages and rooms, and sometimes big, obvious openings that anyone could find. Eventually I find a room with a large orchard of golden trees that seem suitable for sleeping in. Even though they are metallic and smell strange, I remind myself that the Games won't be easy and convince myself to sleep in the top of one off to the side.

I stay there for hours waiting for night to come and soon I find a watch embedded into one of the arms of my suit. I squint trying to read the time in the dark shadows that crawl the walls, and suddenly a huge flash of light leaps out in front of me and the time is in a hologram that comes from the watch. seven thirty p.m. I lean my head back and use my hands as a pillow, and wait for eight to come.

After what seems like an eternity, I hear the anthem playing and see the faces of those who have died: a girl from Two, the boy from Five, the boy from Seven, and a girl from Nine. Four dead. Then anthem plays as I wonder how they could die so fast. I know that the boy from Eight had gotten a four in training, yet he is still alive.

I fall asleep traumatized.

This was our first night in the arena.

I am officially a tribute. I will kill people or be killed. There is no way to describe how it feels. I hold my daggers protectively, in case anyone pops up, but I doubt that because I took so many secret tunnels to get here.

Only one thing is for sure though: this will not be a peaceful night.


	11. Chapter 11

When I wake up, the golden leaves that coated the trees are gone.

I find my hand still clutching my knife, ready to attack if I need to. I slip down the trunk of the large tree that I was sleeping in, and let my feet fall to the ground with a soft crinkling sound that reminds me of aluminum foil being crunched. I look to the floor. I can no longer see the stone that was paved down; there are now leaves laying on the floor in perfect layers and there are so many that there is no way I could walk across them without touching them.

I stand there for a moment, fearing that someone might hear me, but I eventually feel a soft breeze come from nowhere, peel the leaves off the floor and sweep them away to another side of the room. They stir around me and almost lift me off my feet in a sort of graceful dance, then melt into the walls on the far side of the room. I turn to the tree behind me. It has turned silver and I see my reflection in it- rosy cheeks, still wearing the uniform I was given, and my hair is dappled with flecks of gold that got caught in it when the breeze came.

I turn away and walk to the far side of the room. As I reach the hole, I sink to the ground and realize that it's far too small for me to squeeze through. So how did I get in? Is this the wrong hole? Is someone in here with me?

I reach for my ponytail and pull out the small pearl that Regan gave me. I roll it between my fingers and put it back. Suddenly I realize that I'm crying. I wipe away the tears and look back to the hole. I can pull it back open.

I start to scratch at the rough sides of it, picking off bits of rock that fall in piles by my feet. After a few minutes, I still can't see any difference in the hole. It's the same size and still won't be big enough. I randomly shriek to the room, and roll on the ground screaming and crying. I can't control myself. As I give agonizing cries, the hole only gives the illusion of getting smaller and everything gets blurry. I fall onto the floor, not knowing what's going on, and the last thing I see is new golden leaves sprouting on the trees- like watching a flower grow, but sped up.

**-Later-**

I wrench my eyes open and roll onto my stomach, groaning. My whole body hurts, but mostly my head. I can't really remember anything. All I can see is gold around me. Immediately I sit up and scramble on my hands and knees until I accidentally ram my head into a tree and fall to the ground, writhing in pain. All I want to do is make it stop! I turn to the hole I made in the room. It's surely big enough for me now, but my head hurts too bad to leave. I lay on the ground, wishing with all my might that I knew what happened.

I remember seeing new leaves growing on the trees and having a huge roller coaster of emotions before blacking out. I touch my head gently, and even this soft gesture brings on a stinging pain. I squeeze my eyes shut, and force myself to check out the rest of my body. My arms are cut, my knives are gone, and my legs, head, and stomach are hurting intensely. I can't understand what's going on.

I crawl on my hands and knees until I find all five daggers that I lost, and slowly, painfully, make an agonizing trip back to the hole.

I pull myself through and try to find my way back to the Cornucopia. That will be my best chance at getting some medicine.

I soon find the large circular room that shelters the horn. I see the twisted golden candles casting dark shadows that look like deranged fingers across the room. I tentatively step in and catch a flash of silver before the knife cuts me.

I feel blood running into my eyes and the cut in my forehead as I sprint for the Cornucopia. I launch myself into what's left of the gifts that the Gamemakers have so graciously left for us tributes. I fumble around until I find a deep green backpack. I slash it open with my knife and snatch up a roll of gauze. I tear a piece off and turn just in time to see the figure charging me again.

I pull out one of my knives and throw it, adrenaline pumping through me. I watch as the knife sails to the pitch black outline of the figure, but as soon as I think it's about to hit the person, the knife just keeps flying until it hits the wall and clangs to the floor, useless.

Blinking again, the figure disappears and I realize it was just shadows. The person is already gone.

Illusions.

Shadows.

Gamemakers.

I grab the backpack and delve deeper into the horn, but realizing there is nothing useful left I just retreat. I circle to the back of it to keep looking for prizes, but all I get is the sound of feet slapping against the stone floor. I rush back farther behind the Cornucopia and press my back against it, the cool golden metal causing me to shiver.

"I don't care," a voice groaned. "I'm sick of our group pushing me around. Besides-" their voice lowered to a whisper, "There's no way to tell if they're right. So what? They think some dumb pipe in the Spiral will kill us all. All I wanted to know is where it leads..."

"Well," said a deep voice, "Now you know. Here. It leads here."

I hear a shuffling and a strange sound coming from one of the people. One of the people leaves and the other doesn't follow. I wait for at least ten minutes until I peek around the edge of the horn.

I stifle a scream and press my hand to my mouth. A motionless body lays on the ground, with their neck bent at an awkward angle. How were they killed? Their neck wasn't broken because I would've heard it. Maybe they were strangled. But there would be some other sort of sound. I'm confused as to what's going on.

I think back to the conversation. I know now that there is a pipe leading into this very room that is rumored to be a weapon that will kill us. I know that someone has a very powerful weapon of some sort.

Breathing hard, I jog to the exit of the room and turn around, scanning the area. Where is the pipe? My eyes drift to the ceiling and I see something that just doesn't make sense.

I see the stars in a night sky. I lift my hand up as if to touch it, then bring it back down. And, stranger, there are cuts in the walls on top that water flow through. They are small, steady streams that puddle in a sort of moat that rings the room. I'm guessing it's only a few feet deep, but I didn't think it was being fed. Sure, I noticed it, but it's being filled?

I bend down on my knees and cup my hands, submerging them into the water. It feels good and looks good to drink, so I put a drop on my tongue, hoping that it's not poisonous.

I wait a few minutes and nothing happens, so I take a larger drink.

It's good.

I get back up. I guess I found the pipes they were talking about. This pool. If the water is good to drink, then how can it kill us? I'm only getting more curious. Slowly I walk back out the exit, heaving the backpack over my shoulder and picking up my knife that I dropped before leaving. As I travel, I wrap the gauze around my forehead and think about the Games. I found the pipes. I need to find out what that "Spiral" they mentioned is. The only way I can think of doing this is by walking, so I start out through the pitch black hallway, and when the last of the candlelight leaves me I know I'm in trouble.

**-Later-**

I've been traveling for a few hours now. My forehead doesn't feel great and my legs are aching but I haven't run into anyone so I keep going.

**-Later-**

I've woken up from sleep now. From what I know, there are six tributes dead and somehow I've managed to stay alive. I don't know where the action is happening, but I'm guessing it's at the end of this tunnel. I travel for about twenty more minutes before an eerie blue light starts to illuminate the hallway. I walk into it mindlessly, forgetting any danger when I trip over something.

I look down, startled. Stairs. Large, metal, spiral stairs. I glance up, but the light is coming from on top of them and it's too bright to look at so I just start up.

Or down.

There's another set of spiral stairs going down, but I go up. This is the Spiral. I've found it. I carefully hold on to a rail that surrounds the stairs, and start up.

When I reach the top I see a stone room like all the others I've seen, but this one has nothing in it. The only strange thing about it is that when I walk to the far side of it, I see the pools below me that ran into the Cornucopia room. I even see the horn itself, which doesn't make sense because I walked through that tunnel all the way here. How can I be back at the Cornucopia?

I feel something touch my shoulder and whirl around, gripping the edge of the balcony that overlooks the horn. Gasping, I struggle not to fall over the edge. He holds a bow and arrow, and is aiming it at me. I can't quite understand what is going on. Blond hair, very green eyes. He must be from District 4. I know I have to think fast or he'll kill me. I pull out a dagger and hold it up, wondering if I can kill him as I tried to kill the Shadow earlier.

As if reading my mind, he says, "Like you could kill me." I pant heavily.

"I'll do my best," I growl and raise my knife higher, aiming for his throat. I scan his entire body, looking at the poison darts that are tucked into his belt, the backpack that holds his bow, arrows, and who knows what else. He has so many weapons, so why doesn't he just get this over with?

I grip my knife tightly and try to hide my fear. I can't stand this. I can't stay here. I have to run. Can I slide down the stairs somehow? They're all the way across the room.

I glance under his arms and see someone behind him. I can't comprehend what is happening before the blonde boy whirls around and fires the arrow at the new person. I move without thinking and stab my knife into the back of the District 4 boy.

As he falls, he snatches up a poison dart from his belt and pierces my leg with it. I don't feel anything but I know that it will take effect soon. I sprint past him after pulling the dart out, but the arrow that District 4 fired missed him and all I can do is pray that this will be over soon. I try to run past him, but I stop when I realize that he won't let me. His face is masked and he is wearing the same blue and black full-body suit as I am. I slowly back away, realizing that I've been stupid. I walked right where everyone else was- the last place I should have gone.

I feel the cool stone of the balcony ledge against my back and turn to glance down at the water, the Cornucopia, below. Everything about him is familiar, from the breathtaking blue eyes to the olive skin. I don't want to believe it though; I don't want to know him, but the problem is, I already do.

"I see you kept your promise," I say to Corvin as he stares at me.

"I guess," I wait for him to take off the mask, but he doesn't.

"Where have you been all this time?" I ask, wondering if he's encountered any Gamemaker's appearances like my little show with the golden trees.

"Places." He answers blankly.

"Nice mask," I say, hoping to get some information. Just a trace of... anything. Now that there's no denying that it's Corvin, I at least want to know that his personality is still there.

"You should leave," he says. "I've found things here, things that just don't make sense. These are like no Games that have ever been hosted before."

"Like what?" I ask curiously.

"Like Gamemakers. Lots of them. Lots of plans. Lots of deaths."

"How many tributes are left?" I ask.

"We need to help your leg," He says, examining the wound that the dart made. He snatches up a medical kit from a backpack that he has, like the one I picked up at the Cornucopia, and gets a little can of something from it. "This should get out any bacteria or poison," He says, and hands it to me. I rub it on my leg and thank him.

"About the tributes, ten have died," he says. "There's fourteen left." He puts away the medical kit, pulls out a map, and spreads it out on the floor. It has a drawing of the horn with a ring around it and then a long tunnel leading to a staircase. Around the tunnel are many separate rooms and halls that twist and wind through the edges of his map. I stare at them and try to navigate all kinds of routes, but each one leads to a dead end.

"This is the main level of the arena." He flips the map over and says, "This is where we are." I look at it and see a picture of the balcony we are on, and a tunnel leading off to the left side of the balcony. Glancing over to where the map says the tunnel should be, I find a doorway that is filled with nothing but darkness.

Corvin traces his finger over the picture of the tunnel, then points to a line that is parallel to the tunnel and looks at me.

"That is the first pipe. It holds the water that is going into the Cornucopia room. The supply of water is never-ending. Eventually, it's going to flood the Main Level of the arena. For now, we're safe. But once Pipe One has flooded the Main Level, Pipe Two will come into play." He gives me a moment to let that sink in. If the golden trees hadn't been poisonous, I might have stayed in that room and drowned. The thought gave me a shudder.

"What's Pipe Two?" I ask.

"That," he says, "Is the pipe that is attached to this level of the Arena. When the Main Level is flooded, Pipe Two will start to flood this level. Slowly, the Arena is filling up with water. And if we don't get out soon, we're going to drown."

I stare at him, wondering where he got the map and the information. He rolls up the map and carefully sets it back into his backpack. I watch suspiciously as he pulls something else out of a little pocket in the pack and hands it to me.

A tiny green square, with tiny gold and red wires running across it. Raised bumps on the surface and miniature slots that hold whatever. I hold it in my hands and examine it, recognizing the petite item.

"This was your token," I announce. "You chose to bring this to the arena as your item. I brought my pearl." I pull it out of my ponytail, which seems to be the only safe place to keep it. Holding them both in my palm, I can't stop staring at them. My pearl was from the dress that Regan designed me, but Corvin never really explained the "chip," as he calls it.

"Yes, it is," he says. He's speaking in a sort of way that makes me think he's holding out on me. The mask, the unanswered questions, it feels like the only thing he has told me so far is that I'm going to die.

"You still haven't told me what it is," I reply. I want to know. I'm sick of not knowing.

"And I don't plan on telling you any time soon," he says grimly. "We should get going." I follow him into the tunnel off to the left of the room and I glance at the walls as we walk through the dimly lit hallway. These walls contain the pipes, the dark secrets that the gamemakers think are so clever and entertaining. I highly doubt, though, that we were being filmed when Corvin explained it to me, because their plan is probably old news to the audience right now.

I fidget as we walk, trying to figure out something to say. Every time I turn to him his expression is the same- focused and serious. We walk for a long time and I wonder what will be on the other side of the tunnel. My fingers are clenched into a fist that contains our two tokens. When I unfurl my fingers, there are nail marks dug deep into my skin that sting once I look at them.

Eventually Corvin turns to me and stops walking.

"Are you getting tired?" He asks with a little concern. I feel a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Me? No," I say, but he leans against the wall anyway. I follow him, and slide down until I'm sitting on the floor.

"I want to stop and rest. Just for an hour or so," He says, checking the watch that is built in to his uniform.

I know it has been an emotionless evening and he hasn't said anything lately, but it makes me feel a bit better when he comes and sits next to me on the floor.

Leaning my head on his shoulder, I say, "I missed you."

He strokes my hair and talks to me. We talk about whatever we can- our families, troubles from home, even little pointless things like our favorite foods and colors. Anything to avoid the Games.

I hand him the tokens and he stares at them, taking in every feature. Both items are important to both of us and we are sure to take care of them. They are our only links to home. Before I know it, I'm dozing off with my head on his chest. He just sits and lets me sleep and doesn't make a sound.


	12. Chapter 12

Waking up in a cold, pitch dark tunnel with nothing but stone to comfort you can be scary. Especially if you've convinced yourself that you didn't go to sleep alone.

I know Corvin isn't here, if he was then it wouldn't be dark, he would have lit a match or something. He would have run his fingers through my hair and told me that I'm gorgeous. He wouldn't have gotten up, he would have let me keep laying my head on his chest, because he knows that's what makes me happy.

I lie still in the silence, the darkness swallowing me. I can hardly breathe.

"Hello," says a voice. It's not Corvin's, it's someone else. They grab onto me and hold me tightly, but it's not in a good way. It is a firm grip and a cold voice to match.

"Your name is Evelyn," they continue. "I am Shrine. I have something that you want." I freeze, and my heart seems to stop.

"What do I want?" I ask.

"I talk, you listen," the voice orders. "My name is Shrine and I'm going to take you out of this tunnel. You are not to struggle or to run away. It is useless. I have watchers. They are everywhere."

I shiver. What if this mysterious person has Corvin? This isn't like any Hunger Games I have seen before. Even if I had, I would've never dreamed I would be the one living it.

"I understand," I say obediently, but my response is met with a sharp clap and I feel a stinging pain on my face.

"_I told you not to speak!" _The boy shouts. I want to cry, more because of shock than of pain, but I keep still.

"Anyway," he continues. "I am going to let you get up now." I stand on shaky feet, and the person clutches me at my wrist and shoulder.

"Remember," he says, "I have watchers everywhere."

The journey is simple. This person continues to hold me and we walk in a straight line through the tunnel. Unlike most journeys before, this one is short. Maybe a half an hour, I guess.

"I am from District 1," The boy explains. "I hear that you are from 12." His voice is cold and I can tell that it holds dry emotions. "I have a… connection… with 12." Finally light begins to filter through the tunnel until it grows into a white light. I have to wait for my eyes to adjust and I look around the room. It's a room like all the others, stone and circular, but everything is white and there is a low table with cushions on the floor around it. I sit on a cushion across from Shrine. For the first time, I see what he looks like.

My first thought is Corvin. He has the same skin, the same curly dark hair, and the same deep blue eyes. I ask shakily, fearing another hit from him, "Corvin?"

He answers angrily, "My name is Shrine, you stupid girl! I am not Corvin, but I know who he is."

"You said you had something that I want. What might that be?" I stare into his dark eyes.

"What I have," he says, giving me a sly smile, "Is information."

"I've got that," I answer coolly. "I don't know what game you're playing but-"

He cuts through my sentence. "You don't have _all _of the information. I'm not referring to the Games. I'm referring to Corvin himself." He holds up a small green chip and I gasp.

"Where did you get that?" I ask quickly. It's Corvin's token!

"As I said, I have watchers. Everywhere. I also am still holding the information that you need. All I ask in return is a favor."

"What might that be?" I ask, trying to stay calm.

"I want help. I'll explain later, but it's nothing you can't handle. As a matter of fact, you've got the better side of the deal! I'm giving you valuable secrets, and in return, you give me something that _I myself _own. It was stolen. I want it back. All you have to do is agree." He's smart, and definitely convincing.

"Oh, please," I say, still struggling to contain my anger and confusion. "I know there are cameras everywhere. They can't be secrets if this place is so public."

"This room has no cameras," he says. "It is secret. This is the only place in the entire arena without cameras, and it's all mine. Also, I thought if you would like to follow through on this little deal, then you'd like to know what the information is about. I'll tell you. It's about Corvin."

I sit and stare at him in awe. Who does he think he is? He comes from all the way across the continent from our homes, he said so himself. He is from 1, we are from 12. And Corvin refused to tell _me _any secrets about himself, so why should he tell this idiot?

"Fine," I say before I can stop myself. I was just too curious to _not _ask. "Explain."

"Excellent," he says with a grin. "I will now explain to you the facts that Corvin has concealed from everyone else. He didn't want you to know his story. Unfortunately, he can't hide it from everyone."

"Get on with it!" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Very well," he says. "Corvin is not the person you think he is. He comes from the Capitol. That is the first surprise."

Before I can argue with this statement, he interrupts, "Please don't intrude on the story. I know what I'm talking about and trust me, when I finish you'll understand." I sit back a little, relaxing.

"Anyway," he continues, "Corvin is from the Capitol. His real name is Corbin. I bet that's something you didn't know," he says in an annoying tone. "Yes, Corbin is his real name. He grew up with a man named Jayson, who was his father. Jayson's wife died two days after Corbin was born. Jayson was forced to raise the child on his own.

"Corbin was a very good boy, he grew up proper and knowing the etiquette of the Capitol, and his father never had to worry about putting his name into the Reaping. Fate was very giving to Corbin's family, wouldn't you agree? The story gets better. Corbin grew up loving technology. He couldn't stop dissecting televisions, radios, and all kinds of other things. As well as taking them apart, he was even better at putting them back together."

Shrine slammed the green chip down on the table, suddenly serious. Glaring at me, he continued. "By the time he was ten years old, he had invented these." Picking up the little tablet again, Shrine stared at it and held it in his fingers. "Strange contraptions, micros," he said thoughtfully. "Contraptions that _we don't need!_" Pulling out a knife, he laid the chip on the table and aimed for it…

"STOP!" I screamed, grabbing the little tablet before he could shatter it. I clutched it in my hand and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for him to punch me.

"_You fool! I could've stabbed your hand!"_ He screamed, and I felt him slit my wrist. Not a lot, but enough for me to feel the warm, sticky blood trickling over my fingers.

Ignoring the pain, I shouted at him, "That chip belongs to Corvin! It's special to him! Whatever it does that you don't like, it's none of your business!"

"None of _my _business? You imbecile, you stupid girl! Here I am, giving you a good deal, and you interrupt my story, you take away the rights _I _have! That was _my _chip to destroy! You took it!" My eyes grew watery but I suppressed the tears. I couldn't cry. Not now.

"Alright, you nuisance, I will continue. But consider this your last warning," He said, giving me a death glare. If looks could kill…

"Then get on with it!" I snapped, and crossed my arms.

"Fine," he answered. "_Anyway, _Corbin was great with electronics. The Capitol trusted that one day, he would make a fabulous Gamemaker. Unfortunately, he had other ideas. During school one day, he slipped out of the classroom and accessed the control panels to the school. By connecting circuitry and wire patterns, he was able to decipher the access code to the main power source of Panem. For a week, he blacked out his entire city."

I couldn't believe it. Gentle, loving Corvin was… a trouble maker? And one of that level… I could barely believe it.

"Corbin's father was not only Jayson Symma. Corbin's father was a Gamemaker. The _head _Gamemaker. And he remains to this day." Shrine gave me a moment to let that sink in. The man that I saw at the training arena after I performed for the gamemakers… that was Corvin's father. No wonder he was spying on us afterward. That was one more mystery solved.

"Corbin hated the fact that his father's job was to kill children. As a rebellious act to show his father how much he hated him, Corbin created that chip, the one you snatched away from me. It contains all the access codes to the security files and circuits, as well as the continuous power source of Panem. It is so powerful, that the Capitol tried to destroy it when they found out.

"Corbin would do anything but let that happen. Jayson Symma decided that the only thing they could do was send him to a place where there was no technology for him to hack into. So they sent him to your home, District 12. He was kicked out of the Capitol for his act of what he described as 'heroic.'"

Shrine sighed, and continued to glare at me. I was about to start crying. How could Corvin hide all of that from me? No wonder he was secretive about his past. He must have been so embarrassed. But still…

"Wait a minute!" I stood up and shouted in Shrine's face. "Why should I believe you? Your a stupid Career tribute, and I couldn't care less what you say! Besides, you know nothing about Corvin. So what? You have his MicroChip. _I. Don't. Care._"

"You don't care? I thought we had a deal," he said with mock sadness. "I guess it _isn't _my business. Sorry, Evelyn. I'm really sorry. I just loaded your sad little head with a _bunch _of misinformation. I guess the deal _is _off." He continued to sit calmly.

"What are you playing at?" I asked angrily, still refusing to believe the impossible.

"Evelyn, it _is _my business. You wanna know why? I'll tell you." He stood up and walked over to me. I stood on shaky legs, wondering why he wanted to tell me in the first place. I shouldn't have agreed to the deal.

He leaned in to my ear, and whispered, "Because _I _am Corvin's brother."


End file.
